


A Matter of Trust

by Sleepless_in_Starbucks



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (not a good one), Distrust, Fainting, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Lies, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Running Away, Starvation- mentioned, but true!, crazy i know, me?? providing content for a rarepair that isn't losleep???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23285458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_in_Starbucks/pseuds/Sleepless_in_Starbucks
Summary: Emile had thought he was perfect. Emile had thought everything was golden. And yet all it took to break it all was one lie.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Dr. Emile Picani
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	A Matter of Trust

Emile was running away.

He couldn't believe this day had come. He thought it never would. Roman was everything Emile had ever wanted in a guy. Charming, funny, sweet, caring; he seemed perfect. Too perfect.

Turns out? He really was too good to be true.

So now Emile was running away. It was dark, as it ought to be at 3 am in the morning. He stumbled as he walked, almost falling a few times. But he remained standing, remained walking, intent on his goal- getting away from here.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, be it an hour or several, but eventually he reached the town closest to Roman's mansion. There, he found a man willing to take him far away, to a town hopefully beyond Roman’s reach. It cost Emile nearly all the money he had, but it was worth it.

Just as the sun began to broach the horizon, he left the town hidden in the back of the man’s cart, traveling west, taking him far from the man he once thought he loved (and might, if he was being honest with himself, still love).

When Emile and the man parted ways, Emile was exactly where he wanted to be- no place he knew. The sights and people were all foreign to him, which meant they were all foreign to Roman as well. When Roman began his search for Emile, it was unlikely he'd ever look here.

At first, all was well. The people were kind despite also clearly being suspicious of him and where he came from. Though he had little money, he had enough to provide for himself food and new clothing- for the clothes he had been wearing when he ran away were not his clothes- they were Roman’s. He could not afford to pay for any sort of shelter, but that was alright, for the nights were clear, and the grass he made his bed upon was soft.

No good thing, however, could last long, a fact Emile now knew very well; yet he was still shocked when it inevitably applied itself to this situation as well. Soon, his money ran out, and the town seemed completely devoid of jobs for him to refill his pockets with. He lingered there a day longer before deciding he had no future in that place, and must therefore move on.

With no money to his name, he was unable to pay for a ride to a new town. Instead, he found himself once more walking, following the signpost that promised the pathway to the next closest village. ‘Closest,’ however, did not mean close, and after a full day's worth of walking on nothing more than the crust of the last bread loaf he'd been able to purchase, Emile felt it unlikely that he was even halfway there.

To make matters worse, even nature had turned against him, and rain plagued his night. Though he sought for natural shelter, none sufficient to fully protect him from the rainfall could be found, and he was forced to spend the night unprotected from and exposed to the storm.

When morning came the next day, Emile once more started down the path he had been traveling the day prior; but his pace was no longer steady, his steps no longer strong, his gait no longer determined. Instead, he walked weakly, feebly, slowed by hunger, exhaustion, and cold. It was not even noon when he accepted that he would make it little further; indeed, but ten minutes later, he collapsed, unable to convince his body to keep going in its poorly maintained state.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, conscious but unable to move aside from curling up into himself, trying to lessen his pains as much as he could while he was still awake to endure them. No people nor horses passed him by as he lay there, for it was an old road, and one seldom used.

It was only when his vision began to fail him that Emile thought he heard the sound of a running horse coming to a halt, the thump of boots hitting packed ground, the sound of someone calling out what could have been his name; but he passed that all off as nothing more than a hallucination of a failing mind. 

The feel of a warm, solid hand, caressing his cheek was harder to ignore; but it was very shortly after that that he passed out completely; and in the gentle, all consuming darkness of unconsciousness, he found he didn’t need to worry much about what was likely fiction though he longed for it to be fact.

Emile was not sure how many times he awoke after that, constantly fluttering between consciousness and unconsciousness in a numb daze. He was aware that he was no longer on the road, for he found himself laying upon something soft. He was also aware of people visiting him, though he was never awake long enough to make out their faces and identify them. One of these people seemed to visit him significantly more often than the others; but despite them often helping Emile to eat and often soothing him so that he could fall back asleep, Emile could not identify them either.

Finally, after what Emile had decided were a few days of lying about insensible, he not only woke up, but was also properly aware of his surroundings. By way of the cleanly painted walls, the expensive but not distasteful decorations, and the general order of things, Emile quickly knew where he was- Roman’s home.

To confirm his point, right beside him, slumped over and sleeping in an armchair that had been drawn up beside the bed Emile was on, was the man himself. He looked tired, even in his sleep, and his clothes were rumpled as if he’d been wearing them without change for many days.

Emile ignored how his heart swelled at seeing him again, how he longed to reach over and rouse him, to ask him if he had been taking care of himself, and to gently kiss him when he inevitably admitted that he had not been. Such thoughts were not for him; not anymore.

Though his arms shook even when he simply pushed himself up, Emile began to push himself out of the bed, hoping to once more be gone before Roman awoke.

But his plan was quick to fail- barely had Emile stood up before he was falling down, his legs unable to support him for longer than a moment. He did not hit the floor, however; before he could, strong arms were wrapping around him, halting his descent and pulling him up.

“Now, now, can't be having you run off again, can we?” Roman murmured as he placed Emile back in the bed, distractedly pulling the covers back over him. “Not yet, anyways.” He added, tone grim and sad.

Emile didn't respond, instead simply watching Roman as he sat back down, now on the edge of the seat. Roman looked back at Emile, for some reason not reacting to the fact that he was awake. He smiled at Emile, though it was a melancholy smile.

“Even now, you still have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen.” Roman told him, reaching out as he did so to brush some of Emile’s hair behind his ear. Emile flinched back from his touch, however, clearly startling Roman. “Emile?”

“Don't touch me.” Emile said, albeit hoarsely, his voice rough from lack of use. Roman’s eyes widened at his words.

“Emile?” He repeated, sounding shocked and hopeful. “Are you- are you actually awake?”

“I don't know what you mean by ‘actually,’ but yes, I am awake.” Emile answered.

The shocked ‘o’ Roman's mouth had become now fell into a wide smile. “You’re awake!” He said once more, this time in pure relief. “You're actually awake!”

“I'm confused.” Emile said truthfully, unsure why this mattered so much to Roman. He had been awake countless times before now- why did this time matter?

“Of course you are.” Roman said sympathetically, reaching out as though he'd like to touch Emile, but restraining himself before he did. “You’ve been very ill for this past week, and nearly senseless with fever. It broke yesterday, but the doctors kept saying they couldn't make any promises, and I was so worried that you wouldn't- that you wouldn't recover. But you're awake now, and you can hear me and look at me and respond to me and you're alive, and I think you’re going to be okay, and that’s- that's more of a relief then I can put into words.”

Emile remained silent for a moment, looking at his hands and mentally turning over all that Roman had said. When he finally spoke again, it was not about his week of illness, but instead was,

“You found me.”

Though he seemed thrown off by the conversation shift, Roman nodded. “It took a few days, but I soon met the man who took you away from here. He told me where he dropped you off, and from there, it was simply a matter of locating you.”

“...Why did you go after me?” Emile asked, voice quieter.

“I was worried.” Roman responded, equally quiet. “You disappeared in the middle of the night, and with no clue where you had gone, I became frightened that I might never see you again.”

Emile waited a moment to let those words settle before he said, “Didn’t you consider that that was the point of me disappearing so suddenly, at a time when I knew you could not follow me?”

At these words, Roman hung his head, looking downhearted and ashamed. “I did.” He admitted. “But I couldn't just let you go like that.”

“Maybe you should have considered that before you lied to me.” Emile responded, tone sharper than he meant it to be, though he didn't try to take it back.

Roman fell silent at that. “...I’m sorry.”

“You said you had never been married before.”

“And I haven’t been, not really.” Roman responded earnestly. “The marriage was brief and painful, and I lost him so quickly to illness- they were bad memories that plagued me often enough, I didn’t want to force them upon you as well.”

Emile refused to look at Roman. “But you were still wed.”

“I was.” Roman conceded. “And my reasons aside, I should have told you about it. And I am so, so sorry I didn’t. You deserved to know.”

“I don’t- I don’t care that you were married before.” Emile said, balling the bedsheets up in his fists. “I care that you lied to me when you promised that you wouldn't. You promised that this wouldn't be like my last marriage.”

“I know. And I'm sorry I broke that promise. But I swear- that was the only lie I ever told you. In everything else, I have been completely honest. Please believe me.”

Emile hesitated. “I want to Ro, I want to believe you.”

When Emile said nothing more, Roman looked away. “But you don't.” He said, voice empty and sorrowful.

“I just don't know.” Emile said lamely. Which wasn't entirely true- Emile did believe him, he believed that Roman was keeping no more lies from him. But the fact remained that Roman _had_ lied, and Emile was still processing that.

“I understand if you still want to go.” Roman said after the silence had stretched on too long. “I won’t stop you, nor will I chase after you again. I will give you whatever you need to start a new life wherever you want to go. But please, at least wait until you are well again. I can stand to live without you, but I do not think I could bear to live in a world without you anywhere in it.”

“I-” Emile started, but soon enough stopped himself, not sure what he would say. Did he still want to go? The answer should be an easy yes, and yet…

Roman allowed the silence to hold for a few minutes before he stood up. “You need to eat.” He said, heading towards the door across the room from Emile. He paused in the doorway, glancing back. “Promise you won’t try to leave while I’m gone?” He asked, tone light as though he were trying to tease, but it fell flat when paired with the worry in his expression. Whether it was worry over Emile hurting himself if he got up again or worry over him once more leaving Roman behind, Emile wasn’t sure, but that didn’t make the worry any less real.

Emile nodded in answer, and Roman let out a small sigh of relief before giving Emile a little smile and disappearing down the hall. He was back soon enough, this time bearing a tray upon which he balanced a bowl and a plate that appeared to hold two slices of toast. As Roman carefully placed the tray on the bed, Emile found his guess about the toast had been right, and that the bowl was filled with lightly steaming soup.

“Do you think you'll be able to stomach that?” Roman asked. “You wouldn't eat much while you were sick, but soup was always a safe bet, and now that you're really awake it's important that you start eating solids again as well.”

“This'll be fine.” Emile said, already picking up one of the slices of toast, taking a bite off of the corner. He ate a few bites after that before asking, “How long, again, did you say it's been since you found me?”

“A week.” Roman reconfirmed. “But you had a fever almost the entire time, so I don't expect you to remember much of it.”

Emile nodded and went back to eating his toast. The silence stretched as he finished it, and it held until he was about halfway through the soup. Roman spoke then, saying quietly,

“It was terrifying.” He said, drawing Emile’s attention. “Seeing you like that, pale and thin and unconscious on the side of the road. When I first found you, I was worried that- that I was too late.”

“But you weren’t.” Emile said, softly, reassuringly, turning for the moment from his soup to instead focus on Roman. “I'm okay.”

“You might not have been.” Roman argued, expression distressed as he met Emile’s eyes. “And that's on me.”

“Ro, you couldn't have known I would-”

Roman shook his head. “That doesn't matter. It was my mistake and my lie that led to you ending up in that situation. And I can never apologize for that enough.”

“You don't have to apologize at all.” Emile told him. “I don't blame you for any of that. Those choices were my own, and therefore so are their consequences mine.”

“But I still started it.” Roman said, looking away from Emile and messing with his bed sheets instead. “And if you will not allow me to apologize for your current condition, at least know that I likewise can never apologize enough for lying in the first place.”

“You don't have to.” Emile said, clearing his throat awkwardly before continuing, “Apologize so much, I mean.”

“Yes, I do.” Roman insisted. “So many things could’ve happened, and they would have been at least partially my fault. I have to make up for that somehow.”

“You already are making up for it.” Emile assured him. “You found me. You took me back home instead of leaving me on the side of the road to die. You’ve brought me back to some semblance of health. And you've not said one word of me owing you anything.”

“That's because you don't owe me anything.” Roman responded.

“I know.” Emile said, reaching out to take one of Roman’s hands into one of his own. “And that's what I mean. You’ve plenty apologized and made up. You’ve done enough.”

“I don't-”

“I want to stay.” Emile said, cutting Roman off. “You said it was my choice if I wanted to stay here or go. And I want to stay.”

Roman was silent for a moment, clearly contemplating Emile’s words. “You don't have to.” He said quietly. “I completely understand why you'd want to leave again. You don’t have to stay just because I'm being miserable. You deserve to have your own life with whoever you want.”

“I do. And I want to have it with you.” Emile said, looking up at Roman, though Roman remained staring at their hands. “You lied to me. And I can't say that that didn't upset me. But you also apologized to me. You went looking for me out of worry in concern for me. You helped me and have promised to give me anything I need so that if I leave again, I will be safe. You’ve shown in your every action that you care about me.”

“I do, but that doesn't-”

“He didn't care. My last husband, he didn't care about me. He wouldn’t apologize when caught in a lie, he wouldn't be worried if I suddenly disappeared, he wouldn't have helped me or given me anything. If my husband had found me on that road, he would have left me where I laid.” Emile explained solemnly, beginning to rub circles into the back Roman's hand.

“When I made you promise to never lie to me, it was because I didn't want our relationship- I didn't want you- to be like him. Uncaring. But... you care about me. You truly, honestly, no-strings-attached, care about me.”

“Of course I do.” Roman said, reaching forward with his free hand to hold Emile’s other hand, squeezing both of them gently as he leaned closer to Emile. “I love you. I want you to be only happy and healthy and cared for. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I trust you.” Emile squeezed back. “And I want to stay.”

“Then stay you will.” Roman promised happily, releasing Emile’s hands so that he could hold Emile’s face, smiling as he pressed a kiss to Emile's forehead. “I love you so much.” He said as he leaned his forehead against Emile’s, still smiling, still looking overjoyed.

“I know you do.” Emile told him, just as happily, just as giddily. “Hold me?”

Here, Roman hesitated a moment, glancing at Emile’s unfinished meal. “You really should finish eating first.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.” Emile responded. “I’ll eat more later, promise. Just not now.”

“...Alright.” Roman said, letting it slide. Emile suspected that, while Roman did want him to eat, he also really wanted to hold Emile. Roman moved the food tray to the floor and Emile scooted over, making room for him. Roman easily slipped into place beneath the covers, wrapping his arms around Emile’s torso and holding him close. Emile, in turn, nuzzled his head against Roman’s neck, and held him as well.

“I missed you.” Roman said, pressing a kiss against the top of Emile’s head.

“I missed you too.” Emile replied, closing his eyes and humming contentedly into Roman’s shoulder.

Roman chuckled, well aware that Emile only started humming when he was beginning to fall asleep. One of the hands on Emile’s back began to run up and down his spine, gently convincing him to drift off even faster.

“Rest, my darling.” Roman said quietly and sweetly. “I promise I will still be here when you wake.”

And, giving in to the enticing call of quiet darkness accompanied by gentle warmth, Emile allowed himself to fall asleep, confident in his belief that what Roman had said was no lie. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at @sleepless-in-starbucks


End file.
